


Follow You Down To The Red Oak Tree

by ateverbti



Series: Rootless Tree [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ateverbti/pseuds/ateverbti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/678888">What The Water Gave Me</a></p><p>Being human is quite simple, at least from the biological point of view. You have to eat, sleep, excrete, move. You can also use your brain, but this isn’t essential. You just die quicker when you don’t. Man isn’t immortal or invincible. He is very fragile and delicate. It’s easy to break the bones in his frail body, tear the skin and muscles. It’s easy to kill him. However, not everyone, some of them can be very stubborn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow You Down To The Red Oak Tree

**Author's Note:**

> I wish to thank FireWithFire for help with translation, and Andae for beta reading. Title for it was taken from a song by James Vincent McMorrow "Follow You Down To The Red Oak Tree"

Being human is quite simple, at least from the biological point of view. You have to eat, sleep, excrete, move. You can also use your brain, but this isn’t essential. You just die quicker when you don’t. Man isn’t immortal or invincible. He is very fragile and delicate. It’s easy to break the bones in his frail body, tear the skin and muscles. It’s easy to kill him. However, not everyone, some of them can be very stubborn. They play games with their fate, pass it through, by just a few millimeters, saving themselves in the last moment.

Stiles looked at the bandage on his hand. White fabric stopped soaking with blood few hours ago, soon the painkillers will stop working and the pain will be unbearable. He was able to withstand gentle stinging, it was annoying but nothing more, he was too tired with the previous day, week, his whole life. He reached into a drawer and took two tablets of Tylenol. He hoped it would help him fall asleep, just close his eyes and stop thinking about everything that had happened. The hunters, the shooting, the plan which, as usual, didn’t work.

He hissed in pain leaning on the injured hand. Stiles bit his lips, trying to turn its attention to anything other than burning scratches from claws. Had he been a little stronger, he could ignore it. In the end, it was nothing, four stab wound or cut ones, it was hard to put them into one category after all. He barely restrained the desire to unwrap the cloth to look at them. Definitely he will have a scar. This idea he shouldn’t enjoy so much, but Stiles finally wanted to have a sign or a symbol saying that he wasn’t useless, good only for getting rescued. Like some damsel in distress. He wasn’t like Allison, who knew how to take care of herself, and didn’t need a knight in a shiny armor to defeat metaphorical dragon. She had her two hands and a bow, which Stiles didn’t even try to draw, knowing that he would only made a fool of himself. He wasn’t like Lydia, smart and scary Lydia for whom everything went unscathed thanks to her cunning and intelligence. He was weak. Maybe it was the drugs talking now, or fatigue. Or maybe the fact, that Derek barely swung from Death, but now Stiles didn’t even want to look at himself in the mirror. Not at the moment.

He closed his eyes, moving his fingertips over the rough fabric. It was good that he was alone in the house and didn’t have to explain himself to his father again for what happened. The sheriff had long known about werewolf and other supernatural creatures in the area. It was easier to have the authority on their side. Besides, Stiles couldn’t let him down again, not even once. It was enough that Stilinski once lost his job because his son decided to act on his own, as usual. Stiles was angry at himself about that time and about now. If only he had acted wisely, everything would look a lot better. Hunters wouldn’t have surrounded them, they wouldn’t have pulled their guns and the bullet intended for him wouldn’t have struck alpha’s chest, which it did. Stupid Derek. If he wouldn’t try so fucking hard to be the perfect alpha, Stiles wouldn’t be lying in his bed now and thinking about him. Of course, he could do exactly what he was asked to do – to get away, but it wouldn’t be him, would be. Maybe he was not the strongest of them, but no one would call him a disloyal coward.

***

_“ You and Lydia are returning home,, alpha growled at him._

_“You need us, we are perfectly fitted to...”_

_“ Perfectly, yeah,” Derek muttered under his breath. “Perfectly fitted with trouble.”_

_“ Let me remind you, who dug up half of the Internet to find this bloody coat of arms,” Lydia rolled her eyes looking at Derek, “and then, who matched it with the current events? Without me and Stiles you all are like children in the dark. Technically handicapped children.”_

***

He couldn’t sleep. As soon as he closed his eyes, he saw only the metal bed in the vet clinic. Alpha, his alpha, breathing with clear difficulty, black goo oozing from the wound in his stomach. Deaton told them to wait, saying that Derek would be fine soon, even though he wasn’t sure. Stiles didn’t have to hear his heartbeat, to know that Alan was lying. The rest of the pack was silent, sitting in a corner, arm to arm, shoulder to shoulder, suddenly frightened just like small children, who were that close to lost their only parent. Stiles didn’t let himself to be pulled from the bed, even when Scott tried to convince him to go home. Maybe they knew why he was there, it wasn’t hard to guess, but no one said a word. They were silent. Stiles couldn’t remain silent, even if his life depend on it. He was repeating two sentences, like a mantra, “Derek, wake up. Get up.” However the werewolf didn’t open his eyes. He looked as if he was asleep. Finally peaceful, without the burden that he always carried on his shoulders. Stiles should have let him dream, but he was selfish. Derek had to wake up for them. For him.

The first drops of rain fell on the dried ground. It rarely rained in California, especially in the summer. He winced. Stiles didn’t like the rain, it reminded him of tears. When he was younger, he read in a book that the rain was how the skies cried. After that he read few other things that weren’t so poetic, maybe it was a good thing that he has never been a sentimental guy. He carefully rolled over to the side, trying not to hurt his wounds more. Scratches weren’t very deep. Derek, somehow, prevented damage to the bone and didn’t stick into the arteries. Werewolf just clenched his fingers and only slightly dug his claws into the skin. It hurt, but it wasn’t very serious. At first, Stiles didn’t even notice, perhaps  because Derek had just opened his eyes. Later, he didn’t think about it when he was embracing his alpha. Only when Isaac jerked his arm, he realized that he wasn’t perfectly safe and sound.

***

_“Scott, just take him home,” Derek barely nodded toward Stiles, who was treated by Deaton._

_“But…”_

_“Just take him home and make sure he stays there”._

_“Whatever you want, Derek, but maybe you should just let him stay here? He was sitting beside you all this time when you were unconscious”._

_“That’s why,” he said “you will take him out of here”._

***

He lied to himself for a few months that it didn’t mean anything, he just had to take care of Scott, who would tripped on his own feet without him. That someone had to dug the Internet for information, because Derek and a computer was a combination that announced the apocalypse. He didn’t do it for himself, after all, but for the bunch of teenage werewolves, their barely adult leader and the crazy uncle, who was still an elephant in the room. The pain eased a little, sense came back to him. He was weak, but he wasn’t an idiot and he was useful, at least for most of the time. Especially when they had to do something totally unexpected. He was a quick thinker. Just like today. He almost managed to fool the hunters, changed trail a little. He didn’t foresee that a terrified fox picking up on unusual scents would blow their cover by making noise. No one blamed Stiles, when he tried to explain, shaking hand of his unconscious alpha. It was possible that they didn’t listen, too busy organizing quick transport for the wounded. Or maybe Stiles didn’t hear them. Now it wasn’t important. They survived. Derek survived. Stiles’ hand was nothing compared with what happened.

One hundred and forty seven pounds, maybe a little more if you throw a lot of clothes and sarcasm, which in addition to his intelligence was his only weapon. He could have always asked for fangs and claws, the gift, as Derek used to say. He had so many opportunities to nod his head, but he always refused when being offered by Erica and Peter, saying that they need someone normal , just in case. Alpha never made his offer, perhaps he understood Stiles better than anyone. Being a werewolf would have be easier, every wound would have healed faster, he would’ve had heightened senses, strength, speed, but he preferred to be human, an ordinary boy from Beacon Hills, who just got himself into huge trouble. His father wouldn’t understand and Stiles didn’t want to break his heart again. He got him upset enough with all of the things in which he was involved.

He remember exactly the day when he finally decided to tell his father everything, every little detail. It rained. He took Scott with him as a moral support and a very living proof of werewolves existence. He was right that he did. Sheriff listened intently, nodding his head every now and then and after everything he asked Stiles if he was taking any drugs. He asked Scott to shift. A minute later Stiles stopped the shooting, got grounded for life and had a lecture about friendship with person of interest, especially murder suspect. Of course, he didn’t miss to tell about Derek in his story. Maybe he even made him the most important part of it. His father didn’t say anything, although stiles has a feeling that he wasn’t very happy about it. He did expect it, in the end he was lying to him for over a year. The reaction of his father was a mild one after all. _Mum wouldn’t be proud of me,_ he sighed quietly to himself, burying his face in the pillow. He clenched his fists, she would be someday. No matter where she was, she would be proud of him.

 Sleep wasn’t coming. He fidgeted around the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. Finally, when he was able to pull himself to sleep, he heard a knock at the door. His father came into the room after a short while and sat down on a chair next to the bed. In the moonlight he seemed to be older, tired. A few new wrinkles on his face, surely some new silver hairs, he was troubled, but nonetheless he was smiling gently.

“Scott told you, didn’t he?”, Stiles sat up.

“I would want you to, but we cannot have everything, right?”

“I’m sorry, Dad”, he shook his head. “I wanted to, but… I was tired, my hand hurt a lot.”

“I know, it’s all right. What about the others? Are they ok?”

“They’re fine, Derek…”, he paused trying to find the right words “Derek woke up. They’re fine.”

“It was your idea, to pull the hunters away from the city, that would be no random victims,” Stiles sighed quietly, he was his father’s son, he couldn’t deny it.

“Yes, but it didn’t work as it should, I guess.”

“There were no casualties”, he rose from his chair. “Mother would be so proud of you”, he said quietly. “Kid.”

“Dad...”

“Just rest, you did well,” he left the room closing the door behind him.

***

The forest was quiet, smelled of rain, forest bed was squishing under heavy boots. He walked slowly, minding protruded roots, gaps in the damp ground. It was calmer at night, easier to think. He didn’t strangle in his skin, and the noise in his head was a little weaker, less burdensome. He looked around, the red oak tree was in the same place as always. He remembered coming here with his parents, when he was younger. Perfect place for a picnic. Large clearing shaded with the spreading crown of an old tree. When his mother died, they stopped coming here. Sometimes, Stiles slipped out from his house in the night and went to the forest, he sat down with his back against the rough bark of the oak, he talked. Perhaps, she’d never heard him, or maybe she knew all the words before he spoke. He smiled slightly as he sat under the tree, it didn’t matter. All was well.

Stiles didn’t expect to hear the steps, the ground was too soft and moist. But it seemed that someone wanted to be heard. Stiles didn’t know why, but he wasn’t afraid as usual. Maybe because he knew the rhythm, he could tap it out with his fingers awoken in the middle of the night. He knew the pace of breathing, sometimes too fast. He closed his eyes, knowing that nothing bad would happen to him now. He didn’t move when Derek put his warm, broad hand on Stiles’ shoulder. Instead, his mouth stretched into slight smile and he breathed a sigh of relief. All the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. He lied to himself for such a long time, that it didn’t mean anything, that he just wanted to be useful. Now, when alpha was sitting beside him, saying nothing, he knew that everything that had happened up to now was only half-true. He touched Derek’s hand.

“Thank you”, he heard a soft whisper right beside his ear.

Hot breath, finally stable heartbeat. If only he was less sentimental he would laugh, take it as a joke, but the broad arms closed around him. Gently, perhaps not to frighten him, or to let him go if he wanted it. He turned toward the werewolf and tilted his head slightly. Derek had a soft lips, different that Stiles happen to imagine them. The kiss was brief, innocent, but it meant more to him than any others.

Stiles was a human, frail and weak. His bones broke easily, he could bleed heavily and sometimes couldn’t bear the pain. But now, under the red oak tree, he felt that everything fit. Finally his skin could withstand the pressure of his thoughts, he could breathe. Stiles buried his face in the crook of his alpha’s neck, just as he did few hours ago.

“Don’t mention it”, he said quietly, slipping his fingers into werewolf’s dark hair.


End file.
